Nearby Sharjah has preserved much of its historic past, the traditional fishing boats bobbing at the quay near the palm barasti thatched market stalls, where Arabs still took cardamom-flavoured coffee poured from the distinctive beaked brass pot. The Bastakia quarter preserved its mud brick walled houses, their tall, eerie wind towers catching any hint of a breeze; an elderly pearl dealer was still open for business, so too the Indian apothecary.

Usually the Gulf Arabs remained aloof, a privileged minority in their own country, keeping us guessing as to their private lives inside those lavish villas and tinted limousine windows. Their real diversions were visible only from rare glimpses or sometimes from the accounts of western-born wives, forbidden most outings, rarely allowed to seek work, their passports withheld. Some adapted slowly to their new life, some were desperate to leave.

When Prince Hamad, crown prince of Abu Dhabi, was to be married the public festivities continued for weeks, including massed displays of rainbow-striped parachutists, Mercedes stunt driving and gifts of gold-plated Uzi machine guns. But never once was the bride identified, sighted or her existence even mentioned.